


i'll play you in perfect harmony

by notcaycepollard



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Classical Music, Coulson's huge crush on Skye, F/M, Fluff, Kissing, Music, Resolved Sexual Tension, Skye has a Christmas surprise for Coulson, Surprise Kissing, Unresolved Sexual Tension, the surprise is not a puppy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-13 10:31:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4518456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notcaycepollard/pseuds/notcaycepollard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Christmas. Coulson visits Skye at the Caterpillar base.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'll play you in perfect harmony

"Coulson, hey," Skye says, looking pleased and a little surprised. "I wasn't sure... I thought we might be snowed in. It's coming down pretty hard out there."

"Hate to break it to you," he tells her wryly, "but the Quinjet can handle a little blizzard. May dropped me off - she'll be back in a day or two. You're coming home with us, right? Christmas at the Playground? The team are looking forward to seeing you again."

"Yeah," Skye agrees, "and I want to go visit Cal- Dr Winslowe, too. Come on in, I've set up a bunk. It's not like we don't have the space."

"I'm sorry you're rattling around the Nest by yourself," he says sincerely. "I thought we'd have some permanent recruits by now, for sure." She shrugs, philosophically, flicks back on the security system and leads him down the hall, her hand pressed lightly to his back. He likes that she treats the Nest base like it's hers, welcomes people in as if it's her personal home. She feels like a leader, here.

"They've come and gone," she replies, "it's not like we can keep anyone here against their will. It's been a good chance for me to refine some things, anyway. We'll get a team together, eventually. Or maybe you'll just have to come out of faked death and introduce me to Captain America." He laughs, and she smiles at him, her eyes warm.

"I brought some things for dinner," he says, holding up the grocery bag. Skye's eyes light up.

"Oh yeah? Organic steak and kale?"

"I was thinking more, red wine and hot cocoa and s'mores," he responds, "but I can cook you some kale, if you really want."

"No, I'm _really_ good," she says, playfully nudging his shoulder with hers, and he smiles, can't help it.

 

"You're looking good," he tells her over dinner (spinach and ricotta lasagna, because yeah, he plans to indulge her sweet tooth, but good nutrition is important, especially for a superhero). And it's true, she does look good, he thinks. She looks settled, self-assured, older. He's missed her face. "I like the haircut. What's that about?"

Skye leans back in her chair, sips her wine, looking thoughtful. Her eye contact is a little disconcertingly direct.

"I wanted a change," she says. "You put me in charge of Caterpillar, so... I wanted to feel like a person who could  _be_ in charge, who could run this, have the authority to do it. To be my own person, not my parents' daughter, or the team member everyone knows, or that girl afraid of her own power. I mean, it's just a haircut, but it helps. Also, it's super hot."

"It is," he agrees, and then feels like he's given a bit too much away, drinks his wine, and he could swear she smirks.

"What about you? Getting used to the prosthetic?" she asks, and he looks down at his hands, his shirt cuffs rolled to the elbow.

"It's taken some adjusting," he admits. "It still aches, you know. I get phantom pain, prickling in my fingertips." Skye nods, quiet and knowing, and he thinks she probably knows quite a bit about phantom pain, yeah.

 

"So," he says after dinner, when they've loaded their plates into the dishwasher. "Hot cocoa?"

"Well,  _I_ was going to pour a scotch," Skye replies, "but you can have cocoa, if you want. I'm still down for s'mores, though."

"Scotch is good," he agrees, quickly, and she laughs, pours them both a drink and hands him one of the glasses. She stays leaning against the kitchen counter, for a moment, swirls the whisky in her glass.

"I have a surprise for you," she tells him, "kind of, uh, a Christmas surprise, but you have to trust me, okay?"

"Trust you?" he asks, and she sets her drink down, reaches out and runs his tie through her fingertips.

"Yeah," she says, steps closer. Her voice is husky. "Trust me." Coulson's suddenly aware of the heat of her body, the space between them. She can probably pick up on his vibrations, he thinks, takes what he hopes is a subtle deep breath. 

She raises her fingers up to the knot of his tie and tugs it out, sliding it neatly out of his collar. Her fingers barely brush the bare skin at his throat, but it's enough, he thinks. Her eyes are on his face, her expression giving away nothing, and he swallows another mouthful of scotch, watching her right back. She unbuttons his collar, sets it to rights, and smiles, very lightly.

"Turn around," she says, and he blinks, lets her wrap his tie around his eyes in a quick blindfold. The silk is very soft against his face.

"Skye," he says, uncertain, and she brushes her fingers reassuringly against the plane of his shoulderblade.

"I'm going to guide you into the living room, okay, there's an armchair next to the fire," she explains, leads him gently by the hand until he guesses they're at the chair she's mentioned. She puts brief pressure on his shoulder and he sits down cautiously, relaxes into the chair.

 

"It's not, uh, a huge surprise," she says, "there's no puppy, or anything, waiting to jump up on you, but - I've always wanted to do that, with the blindfold, it's such a smooth move. Do you know I can do that, now, walk around blindfolded?"

"Really?" he asks curiously, and she squeezes his hand, carefully passes him his glass of scotch.

"Yeah," she tells him, "it's kind of like echolocation, but with vibrations. I'm still getting used to it. Like I said, though, the Nest's a good space for practice." He feels her hand, sudden and warm, cupping his cheek, and then her footsteps sound as if she's walking away, across to the other side of the room.

"Are you ready?" she asks him, and he nods - ready for what? - and settles back a little more, takes another sip of his drink.

Then there's a tinkling hum, a beautiful sound that's hauntingly familiar, notes that sound like they're stretching, floating across the air.  _Oh_ , he thinks, the music vibrating softly into his bones. He remembers watching Natasha dance, memories of her time in the Bolshoi Ballet, the way she seemed to skim weightless and exquisite across the floor.  _Tchaikovsky. The Sugar Plum Fairy_. It's a gorgeous piece of music, ethereal and captivating, and he's never heard it played this way, doesn't understand  _how_ Skye is playing it.

He tugs down the blindfold, blinks into the low light of the fire. Skye is facing him, her hands outstretched, and on a table in front of her is an array of wine glasses, all different sizes, filled with water to various depths. She smiles, when she sees he's looking, leans into the music, draws a final note out long and delicate and crystalline.

"Happy Christmas, Coulson," she says softly, and he lets out a breath he doesn't realise he was holding.

"That was... wow, that was incredible," he tells her, and she smiles again, sets the glasses to humming in a long, soft sound.

"Put the blindfold back on," she orders, "I'm not done yet," and he rolls his eyes, pulls it back up. There's a long pause, when he thinks she's going to start playing, again, and then he feels her weight, suddenly, settling into his lap.

" _Skye_ ," he says again, and she mutters back, " _Coulson_ ," and then he feels her hands cup his face, her mouth on his, and _oh_ , he thinks again, this is better than a Christmas puppy, without a single doubt. She kisses him soft and sure and certain, and he grabs at her shoulders, her shirt, her waist, kissing back in a way that makes them both breathless.

"I lied," she tells him, pulling away. "I didn't set you up a spare bunk at all."

"I'm sure I'll cope," he says, leans in for another kiss, and the firelight twinkles over the wine glasses. Outside, snow's falling again, swift and heavy. They might be snowed in, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> The Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy is one of my favourite Christmas things: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wz_f9B4pPtg (and it can actually be played on glass, amazingly enough)


End file.
